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BELIEVE I 
AND OTHER 



ESTELLC JOHNSON RULE 







Class _tlS_MML. 



Book 



Goipgtit^^_.-_L3__A 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 



POEMS 



ESTELLE JOHNSON RULE 

(MRS. VIRGIL RULE) 



Nixon-Jones PRiNTrNG Company 

215 Pine Street, St. Louis, Mo. 

1913 






Copyright, 1913, by 
Mrs. Virgil Rule 



a'C!.A3 5 8 34 4 



TO MY ^^JEWELS^^ 



CONTENTS. 



Do You Believe in Fairies? 7 

The Last Snow lo 

An Ode to Butternut 1 1 

Inscription on the Grave of a Bird. . 13 

How It Happened 14 

"Old George" 17 

Miss Choppie 20 

Naughty Bad 21 

Amy 23 

One of the "John's Three" 25 

Lady Jane 26 

Helen 27 

My Baby 29 

"Lalla" 30 

"Buller Gack" 31 

The Fairies' Ball 33 

Panacea 39 

Babies i, 2, 3, 4, 5 40 

5 



CONTENTS 

For Happiness 41 

A Warning 42 

The Spirit of '76 43 

To the Sisters of Bishop Robertson 

Hall 44 

Vain Regrets 45 

Summer 46 

Minnesota 48 

"They Say" 49 

Tribute to Mr. Champ Clark 50 

The Mississippi Valley 51 

Pike 54 

To Mr. and Mrs. "Ed" S5 

Peter Pan 56 

A Little Yellow Cur 57 



DO YOU BELIEVE IN FAIRIES? 



**TAO I believe in fairies?" 
JL/ "Why, of course, I do." 
Such a silly question — 
"It surprises you?" 

"Why? Because I've seen them." 
"Where? Why, everywhere. 
Way up in our attic 

There is a secret stair 
Belonging to the fairies — 

I know what I say is true, 
For one night when I peeped 
Behind that curtain of dark blue 

"I could hear them all go scampering 
Down the steps in great dismay — 
They don't want me to know about 
That secret passageway. 

7 



DO YOU BELIEVE IN FAIRIES? 

And then I've seen them In the trees, 

Swinging on the branches, 
Having, oh, the finest time. 
While below them prances 
"Just the cutest little horse." 

"You doubt what I am saying?" 
"Well, I guess I know it's true. 
Because I heard it neighing. 

And on any moonlight night. 

If you watch the water, 
In the silvery pathway. 

Where the moonbeams loiter, 
"You will see a small canoe 
Paddled, oh, so lightly. 
As they travel to the moon — " 
"Yes — they do It nightly." 

"Well, for you I'm sorry. 

I'd introduce you if I could. 
But of course. If you can't see them. 
It would do no good. 
"I love my friends the fairies. 
What would they think of me ! 
If I did not believe In them 
I could not expect to see 



DO YOU BELIEVE IN FAIRIES? 

All the darling little elves 
And hear their music sweet." 
"You say it's leaves, and mice, and things 
In the attic and woods I meet?" 

"Nonsense! I know it's fairies — 

You poor neglected thing, 
Perhaps if you are very good 

May be to you they'll bring 
A pair of magic glasses 

That will make your eyes like mine, 
By which you can see the fairies. 

Won't that just be fine?" 



THE LAST SNOW. 



THROUGH the still air the snow- 
flakes fell 
So softly not even a fairy could tell 
Living right there in the heart of the 

dell. 
Beneath the robe of glistening white 
The crocuses warmed awoke in the 

night, 
Stretched themselves, and knew when 

the sun 
Melted the snowdrops one by one 
Winter would die, his work well done, 
And Spring would rise in all of her 

glory 
From the grave of the old man white 

and hoary. 



10 



AN ODE TO BUTTERNUT. 



THERE is music in the babbling of 
the brook, 
And also in the whispering of the 
pines 
Where God's creatures can be found in 
every nook, 
In places where the sunlight seldom 
shines — 
An Indian that we meet upon the trail. 
The lake reflecting foliage from the 
shore, 
All creatures from the eagle to the snail 
Add their quota to the beauty we 
adore — 
And, of it, in it, with it, there abides 

The spirit of a man with soul divine, 
Unspoiled though through the mire it 
rides 
This bit of nature for us does assign 

11 



AN ODE TO BUTTERNUT 

A lesson, that we all should strive to 
learn. 
It would teach us proper values from 
the site 
Of the star that far above so brightly 
burns, 
And thus eliminate the paltry things 
of Life. 



12 



INSCRIPTION ON A BIRD'S 
GRAVE. 



nr^HY wings are folded in eternal rest, 
-■- Lie here and sleep in this dainty 

nest — 
May the feathered beauty of thy tiny 

breast 
Rise like the soul of a babe to the light, 
And live In the face of a pansy bright. 



HOW IT HAPPENED. 

Dedicated to 
Mr. and Mrs. B. H. Charles. 



IX/TR. Stork was busy, he worked very 
^^^ late. 

Usually he closed his factory at eight, 
But tomorrow he started on his vaca- 
tion. 
Thinking he needed some recreation — 
Over the housetops and over the trees. 
Over the mountains and over the seas 
He would fly to old Holland, on the 

home roof to drop; 
Look over models for next season's 
crop; 

14 



HOW IT HAPPENED 

Gossip with friends and tell to them all 
The trade that was his Spring, Summer 

and Fall; 
How his orders came from far and 

near, 
With seldom a murmur, no matter how 

dear; 
His prices were high, but then they 

should be. 
Such wonderful wares the world never 

did see ! 
Thus working and thinking, he jumped 

at the sound 
Of a faint little gurgle — Did it come 

from the ground? 

He paused and listened — Again it was 

heard — 
Could it be at his door? The thought 

was absurd ! 
Nevertheless he opened it wide, 
And there he beheld a basket well tied. 
Into the knot a note slipped which said: 
"Mr. Stork" — Tearing it open he read; 
"Please credit enclosed to my account, 
Times are too hard to pay that amount." 
15 



HOW IT HAPPENED 

"What shall I do," quoth he with a sigh, 
"I must leave tomorrow and no one will 

buy 
At short notice anything quite so rare ! 
I have it, ha ! ha ! I'll just send a pair." 
Turning, at random he opened a bag 
Tucked in the "extra," then examined 

the tag 
To see who had won the dear little elf. 
Reading the name he smiled to himself. 

In all the wide world there was no one 
he knew. 

So fitted by nature to welcome these two. 

He could leave on the morrow his con- 
science at rest, 

Where most deserved he had given his 
best 

Though blindly, yet guided by Him up 
above 

The tender Shepherd whose watchword 
is Love. 



16 



"OLD GEORGE." 



TTIS skin is brown, his hair is gray, 
-*■ -■■ His face is seamed by the years. 
His hands are gnarled like the limbs of 
an oak 
He has done the work that sears. 

His age is three score ten and five. 
But his back is as straight as of yore, 

It is hard to believe he was alive 
So long "before the war." 

And what he does not know of that time 

Isn't worth knowing at all. 
He fought on the level and the hills 
did climb, 
Forging ahead, though others did 
fall. 



17 



OLD GEORGE 

"The battle of Vicksburg? That ain't 
so, 

The histories don't tell the truth: 
I guess the date I ought to know, 

I was there and lost a tooth, 

"And a couple of ribs were broken, 

For them I didn't care, 
It was just a little token 

Of the fight — And that small pair 

"Sometimes gives me a twinge In the 
side 

To remind me to thank my God, 
That I am free and can abide 

Where I wish, and not fear the rod 

"Of any master, but you "Little Boss." 

My ! my ! Just look at me, 
When I wink my eye and my head I toss 

Come to the kitchen and see 

"What I have saved for you over night. 

"Pudden?" Well, isn't that funny? 
That you will always guess it right 

I would bet any one even money." 

18 



OLD GEORGE 



Dear Old George ! Your soul is white 
Though your skin has always been 
brown, 

If "virtue reaps its own reward" 
Some day you will wear a crown. 



19 



MISS CHOPPIE. 



JYJISS Choppie is a little chow, 
^^rt. ^^'' P^^e^ts were Chinese— 
When she speaks she says "bow-wow, 
i ranslated meaning, "please." 



20 



NAUGHTY BAD. 



* I ""HERE is a boy in our town 

-■■ That I would like to see, 
Eve heard him upstairs, Eve heard him 
down. 
But usually when he hears me 
He scampers out of the window. 

He must be a misty lad 
For never yet have I seen him. 
This little "Naughty Bad." 

My babies all are angels. 

They wouldn't kick and scream. 
When once in bed there is never a sound, 

Unless they have a bad dream. 
It is just that little rascal ! 

He must hve on this block 
And gets other folks into trouble 

Almost by the clock. 

21 



NAUGHTY BAD 

He thinks I will spank my baby, 

Whom nurse puts to bed at seven, 
When I hear a noise way upstairs. 

Really like there were eleven 
Husky boys all squealing 

"I don't want to go to bed !" 
Thus in a moment revealing 

The presence of "Naughty Bad." 

Just wait you sly little urchin 
I will get you yet; you'll see ! 

And when I do 

I'll punish you, 

So you'll remember me. 

For teasing my poor dear baby 

And trying to make me think 
He could be guilty of half the tricks 

You can do in the wink 
Of an eye. Why, my baby is perfect ! 

Your Mother I know would feel sad 
If she knew of all your antics 

You naughty, "Naughty Bad!" 



22 



TO AMY- 



THE FIRST BORN. 



T N the hall of memory's pictures, 
-■' Sketched by the hand of fate, 
Some fade and grow misty early, 

Others undimmed seem to wait 
For the passing of years 

With their smiles and tears. 

There are sketches large and sketches 
small 
Signed by the Master hand, 
Some tell a story of life by sea, 
Others tell those of the land; 
One will reveal only a face. 

Another a ball gown trimmed with 
lace. 



TO AMY 

In my gallery hangs a picture 

That until the end of time 
Will always stand out bright and clear 

In whatever land or clime 
A thought may flash a light in the hall 

Illumining that picture on the wall. 

It is only the sketch of a cradle, 
But waving above the sides 

Tiny hands like rosebud leaves 
Show that within it abides 

A wee little morsel, just come that morn. 
I was a mother ! That was my first 
born. 

If all the Angels a chorus should sing 
They never could tell the bliss, 

That comes to a woman that first hour — 
Ah ! Unfortunate those who miss 

This wonderful gift the Gods can give, 
Crowning with joy this life we live. 



24 



ONE OF THE "JOHNS THREE." 



JOHN is the name the Bible records, 
To the boys and to me he is Jack, 
And will be however big he may grow. 

My mind will always go back 
To a tiny squalling little boy 

That filled me with pride to the brim. 
Chief Justice or President he surely 
would be, 
I layed out his whole life for him. 
Of course my predictions may not come 

true, 
But I trust to the blood of his Grand- 
sires two, 
Heroes ! Their lives tell the rest. 
One of the "Johns Three," 
This legacy alone will be 

A mascot by which he is blest. 



25 



LADY JANE. 



T ADY JANE with your flying curls 
-■— ' And your eyes like twinkling stars, 
As you dance and dance, and sing and 
sing, 
For hours, and hours, and hours. 

Living a life of make-believe, 
Scarcely touching the earth, 

Giving joy where'er you go. 

With your sweetness and your mirth. 

Today Princess Amelia, 

Tomorrow queen of them all, 

Your royal robes sweeping with equal 
grace 
The parlor, attic or hall. 

Dance and sing as the years go by 

My little Lady Jane, 
Hold your illusions close to your heart! 

They will help make sunshine of rain. 

26 



HELEN. 



THE woods were full of colors rare, 
Red and brown and golden glow. 
Soon the trees would all be bare, 

But then they swayed as the wind did 
blow, 
Rustling their leaves like plumage gay. 
As if at Fate they would laugh and say: 
"What care I that tomorrow I die. 
We have lived our lives and are will- 
ing to lie 
Close in the arms of Mother Earth, 
Enriching the soil and making it worth 
More than we could in our colors 
bright." 

Thus bedecked in Autumn splendor, 
Arched by the blue of a matchless sky. 

The world was guarded by all the 
Angels, 
For the birth of a soul was nigh. 

27 



HELEN 

The soul looked out through eyes of 

blue, 
A dear little girl ! And Mother knew 
God had blessed her forever more 
With the gift of this baby — Number 

Four. 



28 



MY BABY. 



npHE gold from the hills 
-■- The gold In the tills 
Glitters — 
Yet Is not so rare 
As my boy's golden hair ! 

The bloom on the peach 
Just out of reach 

Beautiful — 
Cannot compare 
With his skin soft and fair! 

The stars In the sky, 
The jewels men buy 

Sparkle — 
Though set in a crown 
Could not dull his eyes brown ! 

But were he not fair, 
Nor have golden hair, 

My baby; 
In my heart would abide 
The same love and pride! 

29 



'LALLA." 



T F I should write with a jeweled pen, 

-*■ Dipped in a pot of honey, 

I never could tell of your nature sweet. 

Always cheerful and sunny — 
Bringing into the sick room, 

Whether of stranger or friend, 
A spirit wholly unselfish 

That would of its strength freely lend. 
So far above the average 

With a soul so pure and true — 
Some misunderstand your greatness, 

Until coming close to you. 



30 



"BULLER GACK." 



T T is fine to be a linguist 
-■- To know what people say 
Wherever fate may put you, 
If only for a day. 

In many different tongues 

The thought of the world is given 
But there is one, to understand 

Wise men in vain have striven. 

It is a language spoken 

Only by the elect, 
After they leave that country 

They very soon forget. 

It sounds to me like music. 

To others there may be a lack — 

Without a key to the puzzle. 

Translate these words — "Buller 
Gack." 

31 



"BULLER GACK" 

It means a face round and rosy, 

A smile for a glance or less. 
Two feet that will kick if you look their 
way 
As he lies flat on his back, 
And always wriggles and laughs with 
glee 
When a wee voice lisps "BuUer 
Gack." 



32 



THE FAIRIES' BALL. 



^ I ''HE fairies were giving a ball one 
■*• night 
In the trail of the silvery moon, 
The carpet of balsam was laid in its 
light 
And they danced to the rhythmic tune 

Of the katydid's whirring, the frog's 
deep bass. 

And all the night songs of that wonder- 
ful place 

Merged and swelled to a glorious sound 

So entrancing the dancers could scarce 
stay on the ground. 

Suddenly (the ball was at its height), 
A band of fireflies hove into sight, 
Fashing their lanterns this way and that 
As they encircled the room, then quietly 

sat 
Waiting a chance to join in the fun, 

33 



THE FAIRIES' BALL 

Too polite to intrude until that dance 

was done, 
Never dreaming the elves would ask 

them to go 
Thinking fireflies as partners for fairies 

too low. 

The master of ceremonies, proud little 

elf. 
Came forward, bowed, and in spite of 

himself 
Was impressed by the size of this flying 

band. 
He hemmed and he hawed and pro- 
ceeded to stand 
First on one foot then on the other 
As in a small voice he said that his 

brother, 
The man in the moon, had promised to 

shine. 
"Your lights are too yellow and with his 

won't combine." 

The fireflies were shocked, it could not 

be true; 

They had loved and watched these elves 

as they grew, 
34 



THE FAIRIES' BALL 

And now they were shown to be only 

snobs. 
The flies wanted to dance, they were not 

looking for jobs. 
Tommy the leader was mad through and 

through, 
He spoke to the others and away they 

all flew 
To the top of a bush not far away, 
Where their heads close together each 

had his say — 

And just when they all were buzzing the 

loudest 
A low hanging cloud, very quiet and 

modest, 
Overhearing the wrangle and guessing 

the cause, 
Turned in her course and with scarcely 

a pause 
Calmly sailed over the face of the moon, 
Chuckled and said: "I think very soon 
The tables will turn and the flies have a 

chance. 
For not even a fairy in the dark cares 

to dance." 

35 



THE FAIRIES' BALL 

Cries of distress told the truth of this 

surmise, 
What were they to do ! they could dance 

until sunrise 
If only the clouds would go other ways, 
Allowing the moon to cast its bright 

rays 
As per contract — Hastily they called in 

the wise man 
Who stirring some tea leaves in a very 

small fry pan 
Said, after gazing enraptured within it; 
"I see in the leaves that most any minute 

More clouds may arise, the moon not to 

blame — 
There is nothing makes gloom like ex- 
tinguishing the flame 
Of friendship sweet and charity rare, 
Hand in hand these make a pair 
That brightens the world. So you better 

ask pardon 
Of those you offended, your friends of 
the garden." 



36 



THE FAIRIES' BALL 

The elves felt humbled and some did 

relate 
How they had loitered and stayed out 

until eight. 

Frightened to death as the darkness 

came on, 
And the fireflies had lighted them home 

every one. 
With penitent hearts a committee was 

formed, 
Resolutions were drafted and every one 

warmed 
To the thought of inviting the whole 

band to come 
As their guests of honor, and surely 

some. 
If not all, were sincere when they said: 

"We want you" — 
The flies believing, knew just what to do. 



37 



THE FAIRIES' BALL 

In a very short time their lamps freshly 
burnished 

They flew off together and certainly fur- 
nished 

A sight to enrapture the eyes of them 
all, 

For now they were going to have a 
grand ball. 

The music was started louder than ever, 

Each fly had a fairy as light as a feather. 

The cloud floated slowly, laughing with 
glee. 

She knew never a ball would there be 

Without this little lantern brigade. 
For, aside from their flickering fire, they 

had made 
Friends for aye of these elves in the 

glade, 
By forgetting the bad and accepting the 

weal 
Their hearts they had shown to be true 

as steel. 



38 



PANACEA. 



** I ""WO little eyes of heavenly blue 
■^ Filled with tears like drops of 
dew. 
Chubby fists dug into the eyes, 
Body shaken with sobs and sighs. 
Baby is hurt dreadfully bad; 
Bumped his head, poor little lad! 
Soon the clouds will roll away 
And sunshine over the dear face play — 
For it matters not what is amiss, 
The remedy for it is Mother's kiss. 



39 



TO BABIES I, 2,3,4, 5. 



'VT'OU have cast a spell baby dear 
•*■ Over this world since you came 

here, 
With blessings untold in each tiny hand. 
For two people at least in God's blessed 

land. 
You have changed the hope of their joint 

life scheme 
To reality, where it was only a dream — 
To them sweeter than any other 
Have become these words "Daddy" and 

"Mother." 



40 



FOR HAPPINESS. 



/^^ATHER the sunbeams one by one 
^^ Weave you a net with the gold 

strands spun; 
When arrive the blue gray days 
Smother them in its mesh of rays. 



41 



A WARNING. 



/CHILDREN take note, 

^^ When you look for a mote 

In the eye of sister or brother, 
Of your own eye beware, 
The mote may be there 

Instead of in that of another. 



42 



THE SPIRIT OF '76. 



/^ N the Fourth of July 
^^ The echos do fly 

From the cannon of '76. 
Down through the years 
Their booming one hears, 

As victims the war demon picks. 

None live to relate 

Of the home and the state 

For which men died long ago, 
But the spirit still lives, 
And to the world gives 

Boys that to heroes may grow. 



43 



TO THE SISTERS OF BISHOP 
ROBERTSON HALL. 



Q TAUNCH and firm together we 

^ stand, 

Joined by the strength of the golden 

band 
Of love and reverence for these sisters 

dear, 
And the memories added from year to 

year. 
As they guided the little ones over the 

shoals. 
Training the minds and above all the 

souls 
To meet the demands of life and be 

brave. 
Whatever might come from cradle to 

grave. 
It matters not what the future may 

hold, 
That our love will stand none will gain- 
say, _ 
We are their daughters loyal for aye. 

44 



VAIN REGRETS. 



JUST at the hour when daylight fades 
And night is hovering near, 
I sit by the fire with idle hands 

And scarce can suppress a tear. 
The shadows flickering on the wall 

Are like those within my heart 
Made by the light of youth's bright 
dreams 

Which shine down the years, and 
start 
Like spectres in the eve of life 

From that past of long ago. 
And seem to say with a warning voice 

It were better thus or so. 
Sadly now regrets will come 

As the twilight deepens fast, 
And yet perhaps it is well, as true 

That they cannot always last. 
But will vanish in the light of day 

And with the shadows rest. 
They bring but tears and are unjust, 

For who knows what is best? 

45 



SUMMER. 



npHE butterfly flits from flower to 
■^ flower, 
The bee from the clover sips, 
The humming bird hums from hour to 
hour, 
Fluttering his wings as he dips 
Into the heart of violet and rose, 
Who willingly give of their treasure to 

those 
Who ask it, as each day comes and goes. 

The wind is sighing through the trees. 

The birds carol and sing. 
The ants are busy, each moment they 

seize 
To add to the stores they bring. 
Piling them higher and higher each day. 
Knowing that winter a long time will 

stay — 
They must work to be ready, not only 

play. 

46 



SUMMER 

The school room is closed, 

The books put away, 
Study for a few weeks is over, 

While out in the open with truth I 
might say 
The small boy and girl are in clover. 
Like grasshoppers playing from morn 

until night, 
Yet with thrift like the ant, storing up 

might 
To be used when needed in the win- 
ter's great fight. 



47 



MINNESOTA. 



WAVING wheat and rustling corn, 
In a land that I know of the 
earth doth adorn. 
When surfeited well with the City's 

dull roar 
And all things lovers of progress adore, 
I hie me away to this land of my dreams 
Where wheatfields and cornfields and 
everything seems 
At rest and at peace. 
Where the birds as they soar 
Their sweet songs do outpour 

Happy just to live in God's world. 



48 



THEY say; 



THEY say" is a simple little phrase, 
But like the serpent's fang, 
Often poisons and sometimes kills 
Without even a pang. 

"They say they are not very happy!" 
"They say his fortune is lost!" 

"They say in private he beats her ^"^^ 
"They say he is horribly bossed!" 

Stronger than oath on a Bible 
In the great court room of life. 

It convicts without even a hearing — 
Often cuts like a knife. 

Yet leaves one utterly helpless — 
Who can attest whence it came? 

With "They say," told strictly "entre 
nous'' 
Oft an innocent victim is slain. 

49 



A TRIBUTE TO MR. CHAMP 
CLARK. 



AS the mountain to the foot hills; 
As the ocean to the lake; 
As the river to the brooklet; 

As granite is to slate ; 
As sunlight is to starlight; 

In the scheme of natural things, 
Such is your place in the scale of men- 
Worthy to sit among kings. 



50 



THE MISSISSIPPI VALLEY 



OUT of the north you come, 
Majestically slow you run- 
Nourished from out the hills 
By tiny brooks and rills, 
Thou the beholder thrills — 
O ! mighty river. 

Not many years gone by, 
Silhouetted against the sky — 
Oft stood an Indian brown, 
A king in feathered crown, 
Watching canoes float down 
On your broad bosom. 

Fashioned because of need, 
Steady as a faithful steed 
Was the canoe. 
First as a birch it grew, 
Before they even knew 
You could uphold it. 

51 



THE MISSISSIPPI VALLEY 

Now on your wide expanse 
Can be seen at a glance 
Many vessels filled with freight, 
Riches in box and crate, 
Products of this valley great — 
Incomparable Mississippi ! 

Where now the smoke stack 
Belches forth a volume black — 
Then in that long ago, 
During the afterglow, 
When the sun dipped below 
The horizon. 

Tiny spirals of smoke strayed 
Up through the leafy shade — 
Revealing the evening fire 
Before which in rare attire 
Sat the braves, son and sire, 
Monarchs indeed! 

For them the deer was made 
And ail the wealth of glade 
Minerals, and birds that fly 
E'en the clouds floating by. 
And the fish always shy 
Beneath your surface, 

52 



THE MISSISSIPPI VALLEY 

Were made by the spirits good, 
For the Indians' joy and food — 
Until the white man came 
None could dispute their claim, 
Expecting forever to reign. 
O ! dethroned kings ! 

The silence of majestic woods 
No longer o'er them broods. 
Progress with mighty strides 
Built towns and there abides, 
While calmly between them glides 
You, unchanging. 

The wealth and beauty possessed 
By this vast middle West, 
She owes to the mighty stream 
Coursing its way serene 
Through realms like a wondrous dream! 
Valley of the Mississippi. 



53 



PIKE. 



T) ACK to Pike that wondrous place 
^-^ I love to go, and by the Grace 
Of God I'll stay most summers through, 
And thank my stars that we all drew 
A Piker for a Daddy. 



54 



TO MR. AND MRS. "ED." 



CUPID, on an August day, 
Having stored his crop away 
Of hearts galore, both small and big, 
Settled himself upon a twig. 
And with a pride in good work done 
Chuckled aloud— It was great fun 
To speed the arrows on their way 
Hit the marks and know that they, 
Wounded and bleeding from the dart, 
Yet with the trophy would not part — 
Cradled thus in Nature's lap. 
Watching the sunbeams through a gap 
Turn to gold the yellowing sheaves, 
He heard a slight sound, and parting the 

leaves, 
There met his gaze a vision like this. 
And he knew (nothing reveals like a 

kiss). 
For better or worse, until death should 

them part, 
His arrow was buried deep in each 

heart. 

55 



PETER PAN. 



pETER PAN, dear little man, 
^ Do you know what I'd like to do? 
Put you in a locket, 
And keep it in my pocket, 
That is how I love you. 

For, of all the elves that dig and delve, 
Or those that are fairies for true, 

The one that is dearest. 

And seems to be nearest, 

Is the sprite, Peter Pan — that's you. 



56 



A LITTLE YELLOW CUR. 



I 



DIDN'T take yer apples ! 

"Please don't send me to jail — 
I ain't never been very bad — 
Don't believe that tale!" 
"If you didn't steal those apples," 
The burly policeman said, 
Towering over the little waif, 
"I'd hke to know who did." 

A kindly man was passing, 

Heard the little wail, 
Stopped to hear what 'twas all about 

Seeing the face thin and pale 
His thoughts turned in a second. 

As she looked at him in affright. 
To his own cherished darlings, 

Compared with this sorry plight. 



57 



A LITTLE YELLOW CUR 

"I'll cover the cost of your apples, 

Just let this child alone — " 
"Here, my dear, take this and go." 
She had never heard such a tone 
In all of her short neglected life, 

Curses had been her share. 
She scarcely waited to thank him. 
But ran as fleet as a hare. 

With the precious money clasped in her 
hand. 
Her heart weighted with fear. 
For the only one who loved her ; 

A little yellow cur. 
Oh, if those boys should get him. 

That lived below on their block! 
They often had threatened to some 
day 
Kill him with a rock. 

As she turned the street by the 
shanty — 
(She had always called it home — 
Where her mother had died years ago, 
Where she still lived alone. 



58 



A LITTLE YELLOW CUR 

Though surrounded by "kids" a plenty 

That in these few years had come, 
Since her father had married again, 
To her they were evils to shun) — 

Her worst fears were realized, 

In the gutter she saw at a glance. 
The prostrate form of her darling Jim 

Who always with joy would prance 
When he saw her in the distance — 

Now dancing 'round him in glee 
Was a band of dirty urchins. 

Cruel as pirates at sea. 

With a cry of anguish and anger 

Down she went in the mud, 
Gathering the queer little yellow form 

To her heart in a great big hug. 
"I knew something would happen, 

But I couldn't help it Jim, dear." 
With a feeble wag of his stumpy tail. 

He licked the cheek that was near. 

As her thin arms thus enfolded him, 
Like a mother does her child, 

The boys stood by in silence 
And only sneered or smiled. 

59 



A LITTLE YELLOW CUR 

One disclaimed any hand in it 

And regretted he was not killed — 

Letting him off with a broken leg 
Scarcely their threat fulfilled. 

"I'll tell you fellows what we'll do, 
We'll have an auction to see 
Who gets this wonderful thorough- 
bred — 
The auctioneer I will be," 
Jumping onto a bucket 

He shouted with much gusto : 
"Ladies and gents, who wants to buy 
A yellow dog twenty years old?" 

Dirty hands dived into pockets, 

Their wealth was slim at the best — 
With a business-like air they entered 
Into the cruel jest. 
"Half a cigarette I'll put on him." 
" 'Tain't enough. A whole one I'll 
bid." 
To that was added a marble. 
"Well, I guess I'll just bet my lid." 



60 



A LITTLE YELLOW CUR 

Thus went a hat as an offering. 

A torn baseball and knife 
Followed in quick succession, 

As warmer waxed the strife. 
All the while Ellen stood pleading, 

Exhorting, mad with rage, 
While Jim, though only a little dog, 

Tried her grief to assuage. 

Her eyes suddenly narrowed. 

With craftiness born of the soil 
In which she had grown — a weed 

Nourished with blows in turmoil. 
The auction waged long and fiercely. 
Bids rose! The climax was reached; 
"Six cents and cigar stump, who'll raise 
her," 
The auctioneer loudly screeched. 

"He can kill ten rats in a second 

And pertect a palace from thieves, 
You better speak up, he's going 
To Mr. Maloney for these — " 



61 



A LITTLE YELLOW CUR 

On her feet in a jiffy was Ellen, 
"Twenty-five cents," she yelled, 

Holding aloft the coin — 
In an instant the hubbub was quelled. 

'Going, going, gone!" 

With a spring he seized the money. 
Was half way down the block — 

Ellen laughed, it was so funny 
To see the way they took to their heels. 

Thieves in pursuit of a thief, 
And only Ellen and Jim remained. 

She sank down in relief. 

Taking off her apron that served 

To hide holes and more dirt, 
She wrapped it with womanly tender- 
ness 

'Round the dog so badly hurt — 
'Don't you cry, little dearie. 

Tonight we'll sneak away 
And find the good, kind gent 

Who gave me that money today." 



62 



A LITTLE YELLOW CUR 

Crooning thus in happiness 

The look of defiance gone, 
Giving a glimpse of a soul beneath 

That did not seem to belong 
To this poor bit of flotsam — 

And yet we know it is true, 
He who marketh the sparrow's fall 

Surely will care for you. 

With the money a name was given, 

Which proved in after years 
To be the salvation of a soul. 

Saved from that which sears — 
We can't always know His reasons, 

Nor always see the light, 
But I know in His infinite wisdom 

That whatever IS, is right. 



63 



wov 20 Bin 



